rendered, and the ship was placed between the
guns of the fort and the Ardent. The admiral's
coxswain and a picket of the West York Militia
then, arrested Parker, and brought him on
shore, with his hands bound, to a dark cell
under the garrison chapel. The next day he
was sent to Maidstone jail. He appeared calm,
collected, and rather cheerful. Parker and his
confederates were tried on the 22nd of June.
He and twenty-two of his companions were
sentenced to be hanged on board the Sandwich.

In 1801, the mutiny of the Temeraire and
several other vessels of the Bantry Bay squadron,
excited great alarm in the ministry. The
discontent came to a head on the 6th of December,
1801, when a report ran through the fleet
that some of the vessels were to be sent
to the West Indies. The mutineers' plan was
to break open the gunner's store and get
possession of the tomahawks. When the admiral
came on board, and orders were given to
unmoor the ship, the disaffected were to rush aft,
barricade the hatchways with the hammocks,
disarm the sentinels, and seize the arms. The
ringleaders had told them that all the marines
were gained over except a few "gulpins"—new
recruits. The mutineers had secretly loaded
several of the guns to fire on the officers,
and kept matches lighted for the purpose.
They had also rockets with which to signal
the other ships. One of them openly boasted
that the officers could not kill more than fifty
or sixty of the foremost men before they were
themselves overpowered, and the powder magazine
taken possession of.

The subsequent trial proved that the
conspiracy had been long projecting. The
ringleaders met in the cabin of a sailor named
Mayfield, where they put down their plans in writing.
Their confederates sat down with affected
carelessness outside the berths, keeping watch, and
if the lieutenant, or any suspected officer, came
by, the signal of alarm was to sing out, "A rat,
catch the rat!" or to throw the hats down on
the deck, and ask for a chew of tobacco. The
ringleaders, hearing this, would come out and
sit down on the cables.

The open mutiny broke out on the 6th of
December, about "two bells after dinner." The
word was passed round for no mutineer to
drink more than his allowance. The cry was
then raised for all hands to go forward, and a
ringleader instantly shouted, "Lower the ports!"
The ports were then lowered, and there was a
shout raised of—

"Wad and shot; no place but England."

The men then cheered, and hauled in all the
scuttles. One of the delegates of the rioters,
a man named Fitzgerald, when he heard the
cheering, said exultingly:

"Now the sun shines on us all at last."
Lieutenant Douglas instantly came to ask
what the cheering meant, and invited those who
had complaints to come on the quarter-deck
and address the admiral; but the men, not
wishing to single themselves out in that way
for future punishment, cried, "No, no! Send
down the master of the ship; we don't want to
shiver on the quarter-deck. Only the master
shall come down."

Lieutenant Douglas then coming down the
ladder, several of the men tried to unship it,
and there were cries of—

"Break his neck and kill him." "Shoot,
shoot! Bring the match! Strike the rascal with
a shot!"

The "True Britons," as these dangerous men
sailed themselves, had before this agreed to cool
the officers' tempers, either with shot used as
missiles, or with a discharge of cannon. They
then went on the quarter-deck in a turbulent
crowd, and said they wished to know where
they were going to? They had many of them
been eight or nine years in service, and now
war was over they wanted to go on shore and
see their friends. The admiral replied it was
no use to be obstreperous—he must obey
orders; and when he called all hands, he hoped
they would go with good will. The men,
however, still kept shouting:

"No, no! We will not go from the land; we
will go to England."

On the Sunday, the mutineers grew louder in
their threats. The ringleaders proposed to take
a man they suspected, tie him in a bread bag,
and throw him overboard; the marines were
to be stabbed or smothered in their berths; the
officers killed; and, if defeated, the rioters were
to blow up the ship. They also reported that the
crews of the Formidable, Majestic, and
Vengeance, were with them; and the cry was, "We
will go through with it." The next day they
struck a lieutenant who had been complaining
of their "cobbing," without orders, men who got
drunk. They then rushed aft to rescue a drunken
marine who had been put in irons, and the shout
was to "clear those gentlemen quality" off the
forecastle, and either kill them or send them
away. The next day all the ringleaders were
seized, the admiral himself examining the faces
of the men on deck by the light of a lantern he
carried round. Sixteen of the mutineers were
tried on January 6, 1802, on board the
Gladiator, in Portsmouth harbour. One of them
had volunteered at Toulon and at Convention
Hill, and others had fought bravely in several
of Earl St. Vincent's battles. The court found
fifteen of the men guilty, and sentenced one man
to receive two hundred lashes. All of them
solemnly disclaimed any intention of committing
murder. Only six of the men (Mayfield,
Collins, Fitzgerald, Chesterman, Ward, and Hillier)
were executed: four on board the Temeraire,
one died on board the Majestic, and the last on
board the Formidable.

It was this same vessel, THE OLD TEMERAIRE,
the hero of many battles, that Turner painted,
by Stanfield's advice, being towed to her last
moorings near Greenwich.

No serious outbreak has taken place in our
navy since the mutiny of 1801. Much as such
outbreaks are to be regretted, it is quite certain
that, they have generally been occasioned by
abuses and acts of injustice to a brave and
patriotic race of men, and it is equally provable